


molotov

by jessewrites, orphan_account



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, F/F, as is the rest of clone club, don't worry donnie is a fleeting presence, there should be a lot of warnings here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2136993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessewrites/pseuds/jessewrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She slept with Beth and she slept with Donnie and she sold her coke and for a brief moment Alison Hendrix was happy."</p><p>Or, the one where Alison's a drug dealer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	molotov

They needed the extra money and Alison went along with it, went along with Donnie’s explanation that he knew some guys at work that would be more than happy to buy from him (she had loved him so much once- maybe this could bring it back). So she called up Ramon and this is how Alison Hendrix became a drug dealer.

Ramon knew a girl on the force that would look the other way. Her name was Beth Childs and she was the most beautiful thing Alison had ever seen. She was beautiful in the interrogation room, hands slamming down on the table as her badge caught the clinical overhead light and she was beautiful as snowflakes went up her nose and Alison watched, biting her lip as the black of Beth’s pupils slowly swallowed the browngreengold of her eyes.

She slept with Beth and she slept with Donnie and she sold her coke and for a brief moment Alison Hendrix was happy.

Then Donnie tried to hit her while he was high and it all came crashing down. In less than 24 hours Alison Hendrix was Ali Childs, Beth’s long lost sister (“Why not make this relationship just that much more fucked up?” Beth had said, and Ali had smiled back, all teeth). In less than 24 hours Gemma and Oscar were with Alison’s mother for good. In less than 24 hours Donnie was buried under the garage, concrete drying as Alison and Beth kissed above him, victorious and free.

Beth and Alison met Tony, fast-talking and light, with jobs and contacts all over the place. They set up shop in an old loft far away from Scarborough and once again Alison was happy. She had never needed Donnie to pull this off.

(Two blocks away Sarah Manning sat with Helena and Cosima, the scent of weed doing almost nothing for her growing anxiety. She prided herself on her instincts and something was coming, something big.)

The two gangs met two months later, trying to sell to the same guy. He was a big customer, someone willing to pay big money for good product. Alison was impressed by Sarah’s outfit, all brutal force and tech savvy, Sarah’s rebar in her hand and Helena’s gun and Cosima’s reassuring smile that made Alison sure she was the most desperate one out of them all. 

Sarah felt the same way about Alison’s crew, the madness behind all of their eyes, anger and loss and tiredness tying them together into a group with a veneer of respectability and charm. But she sold coke too, and she was fucking pissed when Alison sealed the deal.

So a month later when Beth was dead Alison refused to buy that it was suicide and instead she went looking for Sarah Manning with a knife in her hand and mascara ruined by tears, feral, and this is how Sarah is pressed against a back alley with a knife at her throat and a tightening in her stomach.

She wouldn’t have guessed Alison for the type but here they are and somehow it feels right to her as Alison presses the knife just a little bit closer, a line of red appearing like magic.

“I don’t know what happened, I really don’t-“

“You do. And you’re going to talk.”

And Alison presses just a tiny bit more and it doesn’t feel right any more and Sarah is whimpering things that sound like “please” and “don’t” and “I don’t know” as the line of red thickens into a row of droplets.

Alison likes to hear her beg. At some point her blade drops to the ground to be replaced by Alison’s hand and her mouth is on Sarah’s because for a second she had sounded like Beth but her lips taste like blood and it ruins the illusion, so Alison drops Sarah Manning and runs, breathing controlled and feet barely touching the concrete just the way Beth taught her.

They meet again three days later, in the same alley, with the same knife pressed into Sarah’s throat. They’ve met today, planned this little encounter with the help of alcohol and death threats.

Alison’s breath is hot on Sarah’s throat and she’s growling “What happened to Beth?” because Sarah knows. Sarah knows Beth didn’t kill herself Sarah knows Sarah knows Sarah knows. It becomes a sort of chant in her head, building a wall because anything Sarah says can’t possibly matter. She’s wrong.

The wall cracks as soon as Sarah speaks.

“This happened because of you,” Sarah snarls. “You brought Beth into all of this.”

Alison is ruined, Sarah can see it in the way that her eyes drop and her wrist slackens, giving Sarah just enough room to jab her in the stomach and move away from her, pulling the gun from her waistband.

“Yeah, we need to talk. I don’t know what happened to Beth-” (lies, Alison and Sarah both know this) “but you’re down a member and we could work together and get a hell of a lot more money.”

It’s a solid proposition, even if it’s made from behind a trigger. Alison considers it (she will be closer to Beth’s killers, it will be easier to get her revenge) and nods, eyes steady, knife clattering to the ground as Sarah’s gun does the same. 

And this time when Sarah strides over to Alison and moves in, she allows the kiss to happen, Sarah’s teeth on her lip and tongue pressing into her mouth with too much force for love. This time it’s Alison pressed against the bricks of the alley as Sarah swipes at her lip, pressure exact as she moves back in and rolls her hips slightly against Alison.

Alison almost laughs, lets her mind slip into an almost-drunk sort of state. At some point Sarah becomes Beth and Alison almost believes it. If she doesn’t pay attention, Sarah even tastes like Beth.

Alison snaps back to attention. Something’s off. It’s the way Sarah kisses angry, or the bite of alcohol mixed with blood. (She’d never hurt Beth.) (Right?)

Alison steps back, grabs the pistol Sarah let fall to the floor. It slams into Sarah’s cheek with a sickening impact and Sarah’s coughing blood. Alison’s screaming at Sarah, demanding something other than “I don’t know.” The smack of metal against skin and bone echoes through the cramped alley again. Again. Again.

Sarah Manning dies laughing.

Alison wears sunglasses to the funeral so no one can see her cry (She’s not sure if she’s crying for Sarah or Beth). She’s desperately trying not to look at the little girl holding hands with the proud woman who refuses to look anyone in the eye. Both of them are crying, and Alison knows this is her fault.

She is not looking at them. Instead, Alison is looking at the past. At the way Sarah’s leg grinded between hers as she fell against the brick and grime of the streets, the way Sarah kissed like an invading force, always pressing on until it was too much (and Alison never gave as good as she got, in this and all things, she thinks). She thinks about Sarah the morning after, half-grinning in the sunlight.

She finally brings herself to see the body, and she does not say “I’m sorry.” She does not say anything, because she can’t quite see Sarah in the perfect outfit and the face covered in makeup. She sees Beth, at first.

Beth, lying still, eyes closed as if she’s sleeping under that goddamn train. Sarah, bruised and begging for mercy under Alison’s gun.

Beth, downing her eighth sleeping pill that night.

Sarah, a joint between her lips and not a care in the world.

Sarah. Beth. SarahBethSarahBeth. 

Alison.

Mostly, she sees herself in Sarah’s face, lying dead in a plywood casket (It’s not even a real funeral).


End file.
